


everything on earth; with you

by MayWilder



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Assistant!Peter Parker, Fluff, Gen, Harley is emotionally guarded, Lil Angst sprinkled, M/M, Magazine Editor!Harley, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Peter is sassy and sweet, The Proposal AU, no powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-22 19:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19977283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayWilder/pseuds/MayWilder
Summary: "I would like to point out that it's illegal to marry people to avoid deportation!""They're looking for terrorists, not magazine publishers." Harley picks up the coffee cup, still scribbled with MJ's number. "Peter, I know that Flash hates you. He's going to replace me. The second I leave, he'll fire you because you are actually a threat to him, and then everything you've worked for will have lost its purpose. All those late nights, cancelled family trips, midnight taco runs, and drinks of coffee you hate but have on back up for me. All of it, out the window, and you're starting from scratch."Peter's blanched looked is replaced by a delightful cherry red, one Harley most certainly doesn't find almost pleasant."So, Peter Parker, like it or not, your destiny is intertwined with mine. We're getting married."***Or, the Proposal AU nobody asked for





	1. chase amber light and drink wild air

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So this is an AU based on The Proposal with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds. I've loosely borrowed from the plot and shaped some things to work the way I want them too, but it loosely follows the movie plot. A large amount of the dialogue in the first chapter is taken from the movie as well. Disclaimer: I do not own that dialogue or the plot. Yay for fanfiction.  
> I have not read the other proposal AU in the fandom because I did not want any more crossover than there already is!  
> \--  
> title is from a poem by "Joanna" on tumblr. all chapter titles will also be based on that poem

Harley knows what his employees think about him. He knows they mockingly call him "Ice Queen" because he doesn't make friends or show any hint of weakness. Part of him is offended at the wide-spread nickname, the other thinks he shouldn't be. Surely, a building full of creative people could manage to come up with something cleverer than "Ice Queen." It's just lazy.

The elevator doors open, and those in the office scatter like mice to place themselves at their desks and look busy. Harley wonders how they think he doesn't notice—he's got four degrees, two of which are masters, and a highly analytical brain. Honestly. If they paid more attention...

"Good morning," his assistant says as he walks into his main office. There's a coffee waiting on the desk. “There’s a staff meeting at nine, Phil said he wants the report in by twelve. Your immigration lawyer called, and you can’t miss another meeting with him this afternoon—

“I can meet whenever I wish, please do not tell me otherwise,” Harley cuts him off. “Push my appointment with him to tomorrow and tell him I will call later today. Get a hold of PR and have them start drafting dates because Bruce is going on Jimmy Fallon.”

Peter straightens in surprise, whatever argument he had obviously slipping from his focus. “Wow. Yes sir. I’ll get right on that, after...Mr. Keener?”

It’s then that Harley notices Peter’s clothes. The man exclusively wears sweaters in the winter. Yet, he stands in front of Harley now in a baggy button down and star wars tie, one that’s never before crossed into Harley’s office unless around the neck of the magazine’s best fact checker, Ned Leeds. This makes Harley glance at his coffee cup, finding a number signed with ‘MJ’ and multiple x’s and o’s.

“Peter,” he says slowly.

The assistant shifts on his feet. "Um, yes?"

“Who is MJ and why does she want me to call her?”

“My-My friend owns a coffee shop, and she does that to me on occasion. As a joke.”

“That doesn’t explain why _my_ cup has something written on it.”

“Well,” Peter answers. “That would be because the coffee in your hand was originally mine. Your's spilled ten minutes ago.”

Harley is intelligent. He’s put the puzzle pieces together by now, but is completely incapable of letting Peter go without making him squirm a little bit. Thus, he takes his time putting the coffee to his lips and tasting the black, bitter drink.

“So, despite the fact that I once saw your empty half a container of sugar into your cheerios, you’re going to tell me you drink the exact same espresso that I do.”

“Well I certainly don’t order the same coffee as you, even though it tastes like death, in case yours gets spilled, so that you remain somewhat pleased in the early hours of our job, because that would be…”

_Almost genius_. “Pathetic.”

“Exactly.”

“And I don’t suppose you bribed your best friend out there to give you his shirt, as he always has a spare in his drawer?” Harley presses on. “It just seems odd that you’re wearing a shirt three times your size on the same morning that the ticket that I gave you for the Star Wars premiere is on _his_ desk instead of yours?”

Peter stumbles over a few words before settling on, “How did you know Ned always keeps an extra shirt?”

“I’ve seen him spill enough coffee on himself to know he has backups. I assume he’s the culprit for this morning’s accident?”

Peter’s silence says all.

“Your dedication to your job is admirable. Now get out.”

“While I would certainly love to, I need to tell you that Flash called to say he can meet you as soon as you got in.”

Harley thinks about reprimanding Peter for the sass but chooses to ignore it. “Excellent, we’ll go to his office.”

“Why are we going to Flash’s office?”

Harley shoots him a look, and Peter closes his eyes with a soft sigh. “I’ll text security and have them on stand-by.”

“Good.”

The walk to Eugene ‘Flash’ Thompson’s office is not very long. It’s enough, however, for Harley to still see everyone looking busy with work as they stride past. Harley keeps his gaze forward and ignores the stabbing pain in his chest, unsure if its from annoyance or hurt. He honestly doesn’t want to know.

“Mr. Keener, Mr…Parker,” Flash says upon their entrance. He’s walking lazily on a treadmill at his stand-up desk, his usual arrogant smirk plastered across his face. “What brings you to my office this fine morning?”

“Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush,” Harley says. “I’ve spent the last three weeks asking you to get Bruce to go on Fallon, and to have him credit Phil for publishing his work, and you didn’t. In fact, I’m willing to bet you didn’t even call him.”

“I told you, Mr. Keener, Bruce hasn’t done an interview in over twenty-years. He doesn’t even take phone calls.”

“That’s odd.” Harley flicks his jacket behind him (making Peter roll his eyes almost imperceptibly). “Because I just got off the phone with him, and he says he’ll do it.”

Flash’s jaw twitches.

“Tell me honestly, did you call him?”

“I’m telling you, he wouldn’t have answered me.”

Harley dips his head in understanding. “You have two months to find a new job, and then you can tell everyone here you resigned. You can tell your new employers you resigned, and I will not tell them about this.”

“You’re firing me.”

“The severance package is very accommodating.”

“You can’t fire me, my father is on the board—"

Harley stands now, effectively cutting him off. “I can, and I will. Make sure you’re at the staff meeting and start looking for that new job.”

Flash is so busy stammering that he doesn’t make a move to stop as Harley and Peter head out of the office. They take two steps before Harley hears that stupid treadmill shut off. “Peter, what’s happening?”

“He’s moving. He’s doing the little snarl thing.”

Harley sighs. “Don’t do it, Flash, don’t do it.”

“Oh, he’s going for it.”

“ _You heinous asshole!_ ” Flash yells. Harley halts in his tracks, turning to see the man quivering with rage. “You’re only firing me because you know I could take your job! That my father is on the board and they’re looking to replace your smug little ass in the next couple years. You…are _threatened by me!_ ”

Harley tilts his head back and groans. When he turns, Flash looks triumphant, even as he huffs out angry breaths. “I’m telling you, Flash, stop it.”

“Just because you don’t have _any semblance of a life_ , any _trace of happiness_ in your personal time, doesn’t mean you can treat everyone here like slaves. We don’t do things exactly how you think they should be done, and we get kicked aside like nothing? I see through you, Keener, and I know I’m right. I’m threatening the only good thing in your life, so you’re treating me like shit. Well that’s fine, because now everyone here can see you for what you are. Lonely, bitter, and scared. That’s you, isn’t it? You’re going to die like that, so you keep a hand of control in this office to make yourself feel better. Isn’t that right?”

“No, it’s not.” Harley’s voice is calm, but he knows he’s got the right amount of steel in it by how Flash’s shoulders dip just so. “I am firing you, Eugene, because you’re lazy, entitled, incompetent, and you care more about checking off a list and being at the front of a line than you do about the quality of your work. Now, if you don’t walk peacefully back into your office, I will have Peter personally manhandle you out the front doors and your comfortable retreat here will be out of the question. He’s stronger than he looks, I’m afraid. His friend Mr. Leeds will probably film it and put it all over the internet, and I don’t think your wife needs you to cause her any more embarrassment than you do by just existing. Do we understand each other?”

Flash opens his mouth, body visibly ready for a fight.

“Nope, no arguing, I am not in the mood today. Do we understand each other, Mr. Thompson?”

He doesn’t respond, so Harley smiles and clears his throat. “Back to work everyone!”

Just another day at the office.

**)-(**

Harley gets the summons to go speak to Anna and Phil sometime after lunch. He’s on his third cup of coffee when Peter pops in to tell him.

Harley groans, but walks out by Peter's desk. “Please come and get me in precisely five minutes.”

“It takes three to get there.”

“Did I fucking stutter?”

Peter looks like he’s holding back a laugh, but nods and presses the usual timer that sits on his desk. Harley doesn’t bother to comment on his assistant’s amusement. He only smiles back and heads for the elevators.

Up in Phil’s office, Harley finds his bosses looking very concerned. “Phil. Anna.”

“Harley.” Phil’s voice is sharp. “Congratulations on the Fallon thing.”

“Yes,” Anna agrees. “That's terrific news.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Harley dips his head in respect. “How can I help you today? Everything okay with the meetings?”

“Harley,” Phil answers. “Do you remember when we agreed you wouldn't go to the Frankfurt Book Fair because you weren't allowed out of the country while your visa application was being processed?”

“Yes. I do.”

Anna crosses her arms. “And... you went to Frankfurt.”

“Yes.” Harley straightens up, feeling his defenses rise. “We were going to lose DeLillo to Viking. I couldn’t let that happen, his interview needed to be done with us. It was a widely sold issue, and you made quite a lot of money off of it.”

“Well,” Phil huffs. “It seems the United States Government doesn't care who publishes an interview with Don DeLillo.”

Harley frowns.

“We just spoke to your immigration attorney,” Anna says slowly.

The shared look between the two doesn’t bode well, and Harley feels his heart stop. “And?”

“Harley, your visa application has been denied.”

Phil coughs. “And you are being deported.”

Harley can’t breathe. “I’m sorry. _Deported?_ ”

“And there was also some paperwork you didn't fill out in time.”

“Come on!” Harley exclaims. “It's not like I'm even an immigrant! I'm from _Canada_ , for Christ's sake. There's gotta be...something we can do.”

Anna’s arms drop. “We can reapply, but unfortunately you have to leave the country for at least a year.”

“Okay, okay,” Harley stammers. “Well, that's not ideal, but I can... I can manage everything from Toronto...”

“No.”

“Yes...with videoconferencing, internet…”

“Unfortunately, if you're deported, you can't work for an American company.” Phil says it like its final, but it can’t be final. “Until this is resolved I'm going to turn operations over to Eugene Thompson.”

“Eugene Thompson?” Harley repeats weakly. “The imbecile I just fired?”

“We need an editor in chief,” Anna shrugs. “He is the only person who has enough experience.”

“You _cannot_ be serious. I beg of you.”

“Harley.”

“Phil, _please._ ”

“We are desperate to have you stay. If there was any way, any way at all we could make this work, we'd be doing it.”

“There is no way...” Harley scoffs and runs his fingers through his hair nervously. “I am begging you.”

The door opens behind him, and Phil frowns. “No. Excuse me, we're in a meeting.”

“Sorry to interrupt.” Peter’s voice makes Harley turn around sharply. “But I need Mr. Keener.”

“What?!” Harley snaps at Peter, horrified that his assistant has walked in on him begging. “What is it?”

“Bruce has just called back, and he will only speak with you,” Peter says. “I really hate to barge in like this, but I figured it was so important that you needed to come right away.”

Harley looks at Peter, really looks at him. This is the man who obeys Harley so readily he burst into a meeting with the owner of the magazine. The same man who looks so casual in his too-big shirt and sweet smile aimed at Phil and Anna. Peter, who works endlessly to make Harley happy. Peter, who knows everything about him, who has spent the past five years devoting himself to his job and not risking the slightest chance at fucking things up.

Peter, who is the _only person in the world that Harley trusts._

“Phil, Anna,” he says slowly. He motions at his assistant to step inside. “There’s something you should know about Peter and I. The real reason I cannot be deported.”

Peter’s face twists in confusion, but he follows Harley's silent direction to fully step into the room. Harley reaches for his arm, tugging him closer. “Peter and I…are getting married.”

Peter makes a choking sound.

“We’ve been keeping it a secret, for obvious reasons,” Harley surges on. Peter is stony silent next to him. “But, yes, we are getting married.”

“The obvious reason for secrecy being that he’s your assistant.”

“…Are we really calling each other out here, Phil? I worked in the mail room when Anna was—

“Alright,” Phil cuts him off. “I’m thrilled you’ve found love, Harley. I’ve watched your hard work, and I would hate to think it came at such a sacrifice, no matter how much I appreciate it. But do us a favor and make it legal, alright?”

Harley laughs, arm still linked with Peter’s. He pulls his assistant from the office into the elevator. There’s always been an understanding between Harley and Peter, this odd wavelength they operate on that gives them the ability to communicate silently in a room full of people. Now, however, Peter is so unreadable. There’s a slight panic in his eyes, but nothing slipping past the exterior.

As they make it back to Harley’s office, he somehow retains an appearance of confident calm. “Okay, so now that that’s handled.”

“Handled?”

“Yes,” Harley answers. “Handled.”

Peter's face has gone utterly white. "Honestly, I don't understand what's happening."

"Relax," Harley says. "This is for you too."

"Do explain."

Harley scrambles for something. "They were going to make Flash chief."

"And naturally I'd have to marry you."

"And what's the problem?" Harley plops down on his desk, examining Peter's schoolboy appearance. Something twinges in his chest. "You were saving yourself for someone special?"

"I'd like to think so. Prom night didn't end very well, so I thought I'd save the big moment for my very sacred marital bed."

"Funny."

"I would also like to point out that it's illegal to marry people to avoid deportation!"

"They're looking for terrorists, not magazine publishers." Harley picks up the coffee cup, still scribbled with MJ's number. "Peter, I know that Flash hates you. He's going to replace me. The second I leave, he'll fire you because you are actually a threat to him, and then everything you've worked for will have lost its purpose. All those late nights, cancelled family trips, midnight taco runs, and drinks of coffee you hate but have on back up for me. All of it, out the window, and you're starting from scratch."

Peter's blanched looked is replaced by a delightful cherry red, one Harley most certainly doesn't find almost pleasant.

"So, Peter Parker, like it or not, your destiny is intertwined with mine. We're getting married."

**)-(**

The visit to the immigration office goes surprisingly well.

Peter’s hands sweat and he feels like he’s going to get caught at every moment, but Harley’s immigration lawyer is very good. Harley holds Peter’s hand the whole time, explains their work relationship and why it was a secret. Peter stays mostly quiet until the immigration investigator turns to him.

“And you, Mr. Parker? You’re telling me this is the truth?”

“Yes sir,” Peter answers carefully. “I’ve seen enough movies and TV dramas to know how people look at assistants who sleep with their boss. As embarrassing as it is, we can’t help who we fall in love with. We were going to wait to file for the fiancé visa until after this weekend.”

“This weekend?” the investigator frowned. “What’s happening this weekend?”

“We’re going to visit my parents,” Peter rambles. It’s half true, and he knows how to bullshit thanks to his father and aunt. “Now that Harley’s proposed, we want to go public with our relationship. I want to introduce him formally to my family first, so that’s on the table for this weekend.”

“And where does Peter’s family live, Harley?”

“Upstate New York,” Harley answers, surprising Peter. “We were planning on driving up tomorrow.”

“I see,” he says. “Well, we’ll chat with a few people who know you, see if anything matches your story. Then, we’ll have an interview this Monday, ten in the morning. If that goes well, we won’t see any reason to bother you folks further.”

“Thank you so much,” Harley says. He lets go of Peter’s hand to shake the investigator’s, who nods respectfully.

Outside of the office, Peter huffs out a breath of relief. “That was…mildly terrifying, but easier than I thought.”

“Don’t be too nice to them,” Harley’s lawyer thins his lips. “You’re two white males who have known each other for years. They don’t care about you.”

“Well, that’s a load of shit.”

“Indeed.” The laywer checks his watch. “I have a meeting to get to, but you fellas enjoy your day. I will see you at ten am on Monday. Happy tidings.”

“Okay,” Harley says, clearing his throat. “So, I guess we’re going to your parents house tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Peter answers. “And I love my job, I don’t think you should be deported, but I do have one condition.”

“Um, okay. What is it?”

“Ask me.”

“Excuse me?”

“To marry you. You made the decision without considering the consequences for me, without asking. And I am willing to go along with it. But, I want to be asked formally.”

Harley groans. “Are you shitting me right now?”

“Nope,” Peter bats his eyelashes. He knows he’s pushing his luck, but he doesn’t care. “Ask me nicely to marry you.”

“What does that mean?” Harley snaps. “Nicely?”

“You heard me,” Peter insists. He lets the smile stretch across his lips. “On your knee, Keener.”

Harley huffs, but kneels. “It’s not like this is a very expensive suit or anything…”

“Doesn’t sound nice, pumpkin pop.”

Harley glares. “On the condition that you never call me that again.”

“Agreed.”

“You like this.”

“I do, yes.”

“Okay.” Harley clears his throat. He reaches up and takes Peter’s hand. “Will you, Peter Parker, pretty please with a cherry on top, marry me?”

“Hmm,” Peter pretends to think. “Sounds a little bit sarcastic, but…okay.”

“Great.” Harley drops Peter’s hand. “Now—

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Text you the details.”

As Peter leaves Harley kneeling on the pavement, his heart races and his mind spins.

_This is going to be a wild ride._


	2. i've forgotten how to kiss a strange mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is pulling at Harley’s arm. “Sorry, but we’re doing this now.”
> 
> It’s odd, experiencing Peter as the direct one. The assistant is the one on familiar territory, running the show, and Harley is having to follow along. It’s out of balance. It’s unfamiliar.
> 
> To be perfectly honest, things are not going as Harley planned, and he does not like that one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so glad that you guys like it so far! love you all dearly <3  
> Also, Tony may seem out of character in this chapter, but it's just for the purposes of the story. A little tension, some misunderstanding and frustration that comes from your kids growing up. This is, and never will be, Anti-Tony!

Peter decides to do the gentlemanly thing and pick Harley up from his apartment the next morning. He’s wearing a travel appropriate outfit of his favorite jeans and a sweater over his t-shirt, but his boss paints a different picture. At the sight of him, Peter lets out one of his prize-worthy moans of complaint.

“What?” Harley frowns. “I haven’t opened my mouth yet.”

“And yet you already look so pretentious.” Peter says. “Harley, you’re wearing dress pants for a car ride.”

“I probably won’t have time to change before meeting your family,” Harley snaps. “I want to make a good first impression, and good clothes are important for that.”

“Honestly, you’d make a better impression if you had three earrings and a leather jacket.”

“Are you going to keep insulting me, or should we just get going?” Harley pushes his sunglasses back up his nose. “It’s a long ride, I’m sure.”

Peter shakes his head and moves to grab Harley’s designer duffel bag. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re mean. Have you always been this mean?”

“I’ve been respectful.”

“I’m still your boss.”

“But you’re also my fiancé, so you have to be nice to me as well.”

“I’m nice!”

“You’re _indifferent_. You need to be warm.”

Harley crosses his arms then, the defensive posture too familiar for Peter to not catalog for later questions. For now he simply straightens up and closes the trunk. “Look, I’m sorry. I can play the part of the loving, doting fiancé, but you have to do the same. I’ve already got Ned and MJ to cover for me if they are interviewed, but my family is going to be paying close attention to us. They need to be convinced that we’re in love, so you need to look at me with something more than indifference. There must be something about me that you like to help you at least pretend we’re very fond of each other.”

“I can do it,” Harley says. “I just…need a minute. The car ride should do that.”

“Okay. Climb on in.”

As soon as they’re settled in, Peter reaches into the backseat. “I had a friend help me out and get me a list of the questions they’re going to be asking us. I thought we should go over them in the next couple of days. While I know everything about you, you need to know things about me.”

“It’s a good idea,” Harley murmurs, flipping over the packet. “But I doubt you know everything about me.”

“Hmm…”

“Let’s just start at the beginning. What am I allergic to?"

“Besides the full range of human emotions?”

“Aren’t you just a regular Charlie Chaplin?”

Peter blinks. “You’re a dork. Also, you’re allergic to blueberries. Fun fact, my mother is allergic to strawberries. Fruit salad is off the table this weekend, though, don’t worry.”

Harley looks impressed but moves on Peter pulls into traffic. “Do I have any scars?”

“I’m pretty sure you have a tattoo.”

“Pretty sure?”

“Your dermatologist called a couple years ago about you getting removal treatment,” Peter explains. “But you had me call back a couple days later to cancel the appointment. So, you still have it. My question is…where is it?”

“We’re moving on.” Harley flicks a page. “They aren’t going to ask that.”

“The location of your tattoo is something a fiancé would know,” Peter argues.

“ _Moving on_ ,” Harley sings. “Where do we live…oh, that’s easy. At my place.”

“Why wouldn’t we live at my place?”

“My apartment overlooks Central Park, while you live in a studio with Ned,” Harley replies. Peter catches a smug smile. “See? I know things about you.”

“Fine,” Peter says. “Answer another one about me. For example…do I have any allergies?”

Silence.

“Thought so.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“It so does.”

Harley takes out a pen. “You know what, I’m just going to start filling these out.”

“Its unnecessary, I’m telling you.” Peter looks over. “I know everything about you.”

“Will you please focus on the road?”

“You’d be better off asking me…”

The drive proceeds in relative silence. Peter focuses on the road, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and listening to his dad’s favorite playlist. It’s been three years since he made this drive, and yet the roads are so familiar that the drive becomes mindless. It’s easy to recall the roadtrips he spent with his father, driving into or out of the city, acting like they were in their very own concert.

That hasn’t happened in years.

As they pull up, Peter breaks the silence. “Alright, my mom has blonde hair. My Aunt May has dark curly hair. They will most likely be the ones who greet us. Morgan is my fifteen year old sister. Normally she would be the one introducing us, but she won’t be back from school until tomorrow, so its just Mom and May. They both raised me, along with my uncle Ben and my dad.”

“Why did they all raise you?” Harley asks softly, as if he can tell it’s a sensitive topic.

“Well, my birth mother hid the truth of my birth father until she and my stepfather died when I was seven,” Peter explains. “When my aunt and my uncle took guardianship, they discovered the truth and opened up a relationship with my birth father and his wife. Since then, they’ve been my mom and dad. My mom respects my birth mother, but she will fight anyone who tries to challenge that she isn’t my mom. She and Aunt May are a weird tag team.”

“And your dad and uncle Ben?”

“They were great friends,” Peter answers slowly. “Until Uncle Ben died when I was sixteen.”

They pass the gates of the Peter’s childhood summer home. As predicted, Pepper and May are standing at the main entrance excitedly, waving arms and smiling. The sight of them both makes Peter feel a sort of calm wash over him, despite what he’s about to experience. He’s missed them.

“Ready?” Peter asks. “My family are…something else.”

Harley doesn’t answer, only nods.

Peter climbs out of the car. His mother and aunt meet him at the trunk, squealing as they simultaneously wrap their arms around him. May squeezes his ribcage as if its made of iron and Pepper is sniffling while trying to push down the fluff in his hair. “Hey, guys, I need a minute to breathe—

“Sorry!” Pepper pulls back. She kisses his cheek and looks over his shoulder. “Oh, is this Harley?”

Harley steps up and holds out a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“So polite,” she replies, shaking the hand.

“I don’t do handshakes,” May scoffs. “Come here.”

When May tugs Harley in for a hug, Peter hides his laugh by turning and opening the trunk.

“Now,” he hears May say. “Do you prefer Harley or Satan Himself? We’ve heard it both ways.”

“She’s kidding,” Pepper coughs, as Peter feels his cheeks heat with a bit of embarrassment. That was one time. “Anyways, do you need help with the suitcases, sweetie?”

“No, Mom, I got it,” Peter answers smoothly as Harley comes around to help him. The editor doesn’t make any comment as Peter lifts the duffel bag out, only to uncover his own suitcase. Harley makes a little choked sound, causing Peter to touch his arm. “Harley?”

“Your name is Peter Parker,” Harley says slowly. “But your mom looks just like Pepper Potts and your suitcase is a Stark suitcase. Did you…forget to tell me something?”

Peter swallows as his mother and aunt look on.

“Darling?”

“I didn’t want my name to be the reason I moved up in the world,” Peter answers crisply. “And so even after I moved in with Tony and Pepper, I kept my birth name from my mother.”

It’s so obvious that Harley wants to ask more questions, but Peter slams the trunk shut and looks towards the house. “Mom. Why do I see Steve and Bucky walking in?”

“Your father wanted to throw a party,” Pepper shrugs. “He got so excited you were coming back.”

“All of our closest friends and family, no big deal,” May takes Harley’s arm. “Come on, kid, everyone is dying to meet you.”

Harley looks to Peter for help, but he only laughs. This afternoon is going to be very interesting.

**)-(**

Harley finds that a part of him wants Peter around. He’s in a massive house, full of people he doesn’t know, and being dragged around by a sassy woman who he is almost certain doesn’t actually like him. He can feel his carefully constructed walls cracking in the little bit of chaos he’s experiencing.

“Hey, you have my boyfriend held captive.”

Harley is turned around by May, who grins at Peter. “I just wanted to introduce him to some people, kid.”

“Well, that’s my job.” Peter offers his hand, and Harley takes it willingly. “Harley? You ready to meet my dad?”

Tony Stark? Not a chance.

“Of course,” Harley answers. He gives May a little wave, letting Peter pull him along. They walk through a dining room set up with a bunch of party food, past an open bar, and into a living room where Tony Stark himself is standing at the fireplace with a glass of scotch. He catches sight of Peter and pats the shoulder of the man he’s talking to. “I am so sorry, Mr. Hollister, I need to go catch up with my son. It was lovely talking with you.”

Tony crosses over to Peter, reaching out to hug him. It’s almost awkward to watch, but Peter looks minutely pleased before motioning to Harley.

“Ah,” Tony smiles. “You must be Harls.”

“Harley,” he corrects, offering a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark.”

“You as well,” Tony dips his head. “Though I have to be honest, it’s a bit unexpected.”

“Yes, well,” Harley says. “Things were kept quiet, you know.”

“Right,” Tony chuckles. “Seeing as my son is your assistant. Guess falling for the boss runs in the family.”

Harley shifts. “Yes, well…”

“Nice to cheapen what you and mom have,” Peter says lowly.

“No, I mean, I didn’t get together with your mother until a long time after her promotion,” Tony continues. He looks between the couple. “Though it’s a little suspect you’re with Harls here before you get the chance to earn from it.”

Harley feels a little bit of shame wash over him, but he can't imagine how this all looks to people, what he’s dragging across Peter’s professional reputation. So, he squeezes Peter’s hand and withdraws from him. “Well, I imagine this meeting will go differently when you’ve had less scotch. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark, I greatly admire your work. I believe I’ll find some water. Excuse me.”

Harley walks away. He can still hear the conversation as he approaches the bar, asking for an ice water.

“Real nice, Dad. Great first impression.”

“What? This man who you complain about being void of emotion and working you to the bone shows up here with you after three years, and he’s your boyfriend? What am I supposed to think?”

“We just got here, can we wait two seconds before having this conversation?”

“I just never figured you were someone who thought he had to sleep himself to some mediocre job in the publishing industry. You have so much more to offer.”

“First of all, it’s not a mediocre job. That man is one of the most respected editors in the country and works for the magazine that spreads the most news about you. He is respected because he only prints facts, he finds the newest information in science, and he doesn’t step on anyone to publish it or allow his journalists to do it either.”

“I’m supposed to believe this great respect came from nowhere?”

“Not from nowhere! I have _always_ respected and cared about him.”

“And now he’s your foot on the ladder? You brought your meal ticket home to meet your mother. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore, kid.”

“You’re right,” Peter snaps. “You don’t know me anymore. I am not a kid, and that man is not my meal ticket. He’s my fiancé.”

Harley chokes on his water. _So this is when we’re sharing the information then?_

“What did you just say?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me.” There’s footsteps, and then Peter is pulling at Harley’s arm. “Sorry, but we’re doing this now.”

Harley hasn’t had family in a very long time, but he feels like this can’t possibly be normal. Tony is gaping like a fish, scotch discarded, and Peter looks like he’s wanting to make a point. It’s odd, experiencing Peter as the direct one. The assistant is the one on familiar territory, running the show, and Harley is having to follow along. It’s out of balance. It’s unfamiliar.

To be perfectly honest, things are not going as Harley planned, and he does not like that one bit.

The next hour is a bit of a blur. Peter stands in front of everyone and announces their engagement like he’s thrilled its going to happen. Harley focuses on changing his mind about their dynamic to play the role of bashful fiancé, letting Peter talk as he tries desperately to keep up with the growing list of people offering sincere (but mildly judgmental) congratulations. He finds that the longer he stands at the center of attention, the longer he feels the need to run away.

That feeling, despite everything happening, is quite familiar.

“Oh, tell us the story!” one of Peter’s friends, Cassie, giggles in excitement. “Who proposed, how it happened, everything.”

Peter and Harley lock eyes. The former shakes his head. “Oh, that’s a bit personal—

“But I’d love to hear it,” Pepper says. “Since we haven’t heard much about Harley, it would be great to have this little insight.”

A couple of murmured agreements come.

“Why doesn’t Harley share it?” May offers. “Peter’s been talking so much already, give Harley the chance to share the limelight.”

Harley clutches his glass of champagne. “Oh, I don’t know, surely you’d like to hear from Peter?”

“No, baby.” Peter pats Harley’s elbow with a glint in his eye. “Why don’t you share it?”

“Well, alright then.” Harley replies lowly. “Um, well, Peter and I were at the…office. We were working late, because we had a couple of articles to finish proofing and get to the printers by the midnight. That morning, I had gotten into a fight with one of my bosses about a client. Peter knew I was having a rough day, so he went through a painstaking process of finding my favorite dessert.”

“Tiramisu,” Peter cuts in, almost like its an afterthought. He must be recalling the same night that Harley is talking about, even though there’s a twist coming. “I got you tiramisu.”

A couple of people chuckle, and Harley shrugs. “Cheesy, I know, but I love it. Anyways, getting it from my favorite restaurant is difficult.”

“It’s actually impossible after ten,” Peter says in the soft voice normally reserved for when Harley is having a very bad day indeed. “I had to call up the chef and beg her to make one for me, and to unlock the restaurant so I could come get it. They were very annoyed, but ultimately accommodating.”

“When he walked in and placed it on my desk, I realized that I never felt so _known_ ,” Harley continues. Wrapped up in the moment, his hand reaches for Peter’s arm. “I had never felt so seen, so cared for, even over a little piece of cake. It made my night, honestly. I um…I just had to reach up and kiss him, and the words just sort of…tumbled out of me. I asked him to marry me.”

“And I said yes,” Peter finishes. There’s a moment, where Harley feels a flicker in his chest that’s always associated with Peter, before they look back to their captivated audience.

“Oh, Peter,” Pepper says softly, touching her chest. “You’ve always been so kind.”

May sniffles. “What a sweet story.”

There are murmurs of agreement as Peter makes a general goodbye to the room. “It’s been a long day, with the travel and all, so we were thinking about resting a bit before dinner. It was so great to see everyone.”

Though Pepper offers to guide them to their rooms, Peter assures his mom he knows where to go. He leads Harley by the hand through the house (read: mansion) and doesn’t let go, even when out of sight of guests. Harley wants to jerk his hand away and claim Peter’s taking liberties, but Peter’s hands feel…nice. Soft, gentle. Harley would be lying if he didn’t say he had moments when he wondered what they’d feel like.

How could he not? Peter is gorgeous, and his hands…so gentle…

“This is us,” Peter says, dropping his hands. “It’s a big bed, but I’ll sleep on the floor and we’ll lock the door so we aren’t walked in on for any reason.”

“I will definitely sleep on the floor,” Harley challenges. “I can’t just—well, I was born in Canada, but raised in southern USA. I can hear my mother yelling about my southern sensibilities being better than this, there is absolutely no way you can sleep on the floor of your own home. I refuse. I’ll take the floor.”

“What? You’re a guest, absolutely not. We’ll…we’ll share.”

“Share?!”

“The bed is huge, we won’t even touch.”

“I have literally never shared a bed with anyone in my life.”

He sees Peter’s face twitch. “You—Do you mean that—

“I’m not a virgin, not that its any of your business. I just meant that I’ve never stayed, shared a bed. It’s…we are colleagues!”

“Who are getting _married_ , Harley.” Peter crosses his arms. “Come on, it’s the this or I take the floor.”

Harley feels his jaw set, but works to smooth out his expression. “Fine. But you better not snore, or I’m smothering you.”

“Ha, ha.” Peter rolls his eyes. “Now, I’m going to leave you here with your laptop and your cell phone to recover while I go and try to deal with my family.”

“Oh,” Harley says, quiet. “You…you noticed?”

There’s something odd in the uptick of Peter’s smile. “Harley, I always notice.”

_What am I supposed to say to that?_

“I’ll be back in a bit, okay?” Peter heads for the door. “Get some rest.”

**)-(**

When Peter makes it down to the living room, his dad is nowhere to be found. His mom looks tense, and May is forcing a smile, leading Peter to journey towards the basement and to the lab. Tony sits in front of an old circuit board with a set to his jaw—that can only mean one thing.

“Did Mom and May drag you down here and yell at you?” Peter asks.

“That obvious?” Tony flinches. He motions to the seat next to him, so Peter grabs a pair of pliers. “She, uh, wasn’t very pleased with me as a host. Demanded I apologize before I sent you running again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter answers, getting to work on something they’ve reprogrammed at least sixty times. “I know I sprung this on you guys.”

“It just made me wonder, Pete,” his father huffs. “Did you not come back because I told you to quit your job with Harley? Because you love him?”

“What? No.” Peter shakes his head. “I left because you wanted something I didn’t want, and you didn’t accept that answer.”

“It’s not that I don’t accept it, I don’t understand it.”

“I cannot fathom how you don’t see the issue with not accepting that, after everything you went through with Howard.”

Tony jerks back. “That is not fair!”

“Isn’t it?” Peter snaps.

“Howard was disgusted by me because I sometimes kept the company of boys. I am not disgusted by you, I love you, and I want a good future for you.”

“But you can’t pick my future, Dad!”

“I’m not picking your future, I’m trying to get you to see,” Tony says. “You’re getting married, you might start building a family, and Morgan is going to go off to college in a few years…I want to retire, but not unless I know you’re there to take over. I don’t want to pass the business off to anyone else.”

“I’m serious about working where I do,” Peter stresses. “I love my job, and you know that!”

“But this is our family legacy, _your_ family legacy.”

“You told me a long time ago to be happy, and this makes me happy.”

“So what do I do with the company, kid?”

“Give it to Morgan,” Peter suggests.

“She doesn’t want it.” Tony waves him off.

Peter scoffs. “Have you bothered to even ask her? She wants to take over Stark Industries.”

“She would tell me if that’s what she actually wanted,” Tony shoots back. “Both of you are very clear about these things.”

“Dad, Morgan wants to meet your expectations,” Peter stresses. “You have to know that. Morgan was only twelve when I left. She saw what it looked like when your expectations are failed, and since she thinks nothing will satisfy you except me taking over, she doesn’t say anything.”

“How am I supposed to know that?”

“ _Fucking ask instead of assuming!_ ”

Tony’s nostrils flare, and Peter knows this is going nowhere. He throws down his pliers and stands from the work bench. “You know what, apology not accepted. Maybe try again when you mean it.”

“Peter, come on—”

He ignores him, running up the stairs and doing whatever he can to get away. He skirts past the guests, up to the third level, and back to his childhood home. Harley is sitting on the bed, already in pajamas, typing away at his computer. He looks up in worry at the sight of Peter slamming the door.

He pushes his glasses up his nose. “Peter?”

“I, um,” Peter swallows, trying not to focus on the mess of emotions in his chest. “I’m going to go take a shower. Are you okay with an early night?”

“It’s five o’clock.”

“I am aware.”

“Okay,” Harley says slowly. “I’ll get ready to tuck in.”

Peter feels the shock on his own face. “You’re awfully submissive.”

“Well,” Harley shrugs. “You’re not the only one who knows what the other needs sometimes.”

Peter thinks carefully. There have been times when Harley has given him coffee, sent him out for food when things were getting to be too much. He’s made comments about fresh air, his socialization. He notices his friendships in the office. He knows where Peter lives.

Harley pays attention, and Peter finds it difficult to think about much else while he gets ready for bed. His relationship with his boss has always been…odd. Sure, Peter’s noticed Harley’s withdrawn state. The editor doesn’t seem to understand relationships, but he moderately respects them. He isn’t mean, necessarily, just…absent in emotion?

Except when he’s not.

_Except when he’s not._

Peter slides into bed, noting how Harley looks at him expectantly. “And here I was thinking you would respect boundaries.”

“You’re going to have to tell me at some point, Peter,” Harley whispers. “I need to be prepared for what I’m going into. I don’t…I don’t understand any of this.”

“Of what?” Peter asks.

“Family.”

The word is said simply, but there is a clear pain behind Harley’s tired eyes. Peter realizes his boss-fiance is completely drained from the social activity he so rarely engages in. This slip up of emotion is a sign of trust, and Harley deserves some in return. So, Peter lets out a groan (because Harley’s victory should never be easy) and lays back to stare at the ceiling. Harley shuts his computer and reaches over to turn out the lampshade, ignoring how the sun is only just setting outside.

“Three years ago,” Peter says slowly. “I came home for Christmas. Dad and I got into a huge fight about me coming home and taking over the family business. I didn’t want to, I wanted to be an editor at a worldwide renowned magazine for technology. Dad wanted me to be _in_ the magazine. I haven’t been home since, and things are usually pretty tense between Dad and I.”

There’s a pause, where Peter waits for Harley to say something. He seems to know there’s more, so Peter plows on.

“We used to be close. So close. But when I was getting my journalism degree at the same time as I was getting my biochem degree, he got frustrated. It wasn’t business, it wasn’t engineering, so…he was a little upset. He got over it, though, until I stopped coming home as much so I could pursue the journalism degree. I felt like he was trying to control me, he felt like I was pushing family away, and now…”

“Now he thinks you’ve been keeping a huge secret from him,” Harley finishes. “Me. And he’s probably even more hurt and lashing out.”

“He just doesn’t give me much time to explain myself, doesn’t hear me when I speak. We’re working out the kinks.”

“Was that what this weekend was supposed to be?”

Peter taps his fingers against his stomach. “I, um, I guess.”

“Well,” Harley drones. “Good thing weddings aren’t full of family drama.”

Peter laughs. “Alright, your turn.”

“My turn for what?”

“Cough up some personal shit that I don’t know.”

“I thought you knew everything?”

Peter’s elbow finds Harley’s ribs.

“Fuck!” he coughs out. “God, I have to stop forgetting what a dick you can be. What do you want to know?”

“Hmm,” Peter hums. “I think I would like to know why you’re closed off.”

“Are you serious?”

“As serious as the offenses of faking a marriage to avoid deportation.”

“You’re a hoot, Parker.”

“Story. Time.”

“I lived with my parents in Tennessee,” Harley says quickly. He needs to do it that way, or it’ll be a mess. “I was born in Canada, but Dad’s job brought him to small town America, where a power plant was. He was really religious, and not in a good way. I hid the parts of myself that I could, but…he was observant. He was disgusted with me. My mom never seemed to agree with him, but her indifference was almost worse. My sister, Abby, she was…the absolute best. Funny, witty, endlessly loving. She, um, she always said Dad was a fake Christian. He didn’t love people enough to claim it, apparently. I don’t know.”

Peter stays silent.

“She was my best friend. And then, when I was sixteen, we were in a car wreck, and she died. I watched her bleed out before the ambulance got there. It was kind of the worst, you know? I waited two years, worked hard in school, and got a scholarship to Columbia. I survived off of help from an aunt for a few years before she had a baby and had to stop helping. After that, I worked to save. I studied. And I became the best at what I could. I didn’t make friends. I’ve never been good at it, and I was always used to people not really liking who I was. It’s easier to be away from it. When emotion gets in the way, things go haywire and I can’t manage. I may or not have control issues.”

Peter lets himself chuckle.

“Anyways. That’s why I have no family or friends or anything outside of personal connections. And its why this all doesn’t make sense to me. I’ve never had this. You have a father who loves you, for better or for worse, as you are. A mom who cares about your life and her family, a sister who adores you. Endless people around you that you love. Your work is what you love, and what makes you happy, and I understand that more than most people. This though? This is a treasure. A happy, healthy family, with bridges that can be rebuilt with your father.”

“What are you saying?” Peter asks softly.

“I’m saying that this, what you have here, is worth the effort its going to take. You’ll have to forgive your father, and he’ll have to accept your future. The two of you need to work it out because it’s such a gift.”

Peter doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry,” Harley says. “I just, um, I think it’s a rare treat. Its none of my business, I know.”

Still, Peter doesn’t reply. There a discomfort in the air as he decides how to proceed. Harley isn't overstepping, and PEter knows he's right. He also knows that Harley revealing that much had to have been difficult. So, he slowly slides his hand between them and interlaces his fingers with Harley's. He squeezes. Next to him, he hears breath catch before Harley squeezes back. 

“Night, Harley,” Peter whispers.

“Goodnight, Peter,” Harley says back.

He closes his eyes, and drifts off into sleep. 


	3. i do not know how to love someone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Harley talks, he finds the words tumbling out of him with a sort of relief that feels entirely new. He’s saying things long buried, admitting to feelings that have always been difficult to suppress. Now somebody is listening to them. Pepper and May are standing there, hearing the truth that Harley’s always wanted to tell. Every time Peter teased about getting a sex life, about Harley having no emotion, about his cold exterior and pretentiousness. Every time he kept his mouth shut, and now it just comes flooding out. 
> 
> “There’s nobody that makes me feel like I can be myself,” he continues. “Peter is unlike anyone else I’ve ever known. Anything I ever asked him to do, he did, but better. He goes above and beyond, he’s an actively best friend, and he’s…honestly? Painfully handsome. Like a little ball of sun, I don’t know, but I love him. I...I love him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i appreciate the support you guys have given SO MUCH. i love you all <3

Harley is woken the next morning by his alarm.

Immediately, Peter turns his head into Harley’s shoulder and groans.

“Shit,” Harley rasps, flinging his hand out. “I forgot—

His hand knocks the phone on the table. He reaches around, trying to lean off the bed. When he does, however, he notices that Peter’s got an arm locked around his waist. “Peter, I’ve got to get my phone.”

“Shut it off,” Peter grumbles, contradicting his words by pulling Harley’s much thinner body closer to him. “’m tired.”

“You’ve been sleeping for over ten hours,” Harley hisses. “If you let me go, I will turn it off.”

Peter makes another unintelligible noise, burying closer to Harley. “Harls…so loud…”

Harley can’t even begin to understand why Peter’s doing this, why Peter is so close, so warm, and so goddamn strong. His head is still heavy with sleep, the sun is barely streaming in through the curtains, and there is something interesting pressing against his backside. It’s too much and too fucking early. He has to figure out a way to get out of the sleep-induced-grip that Peter has him in, so he can shut off his phone, and then get away from the warm bed and—

Peter lets out an annoyed huff and retracts his arm. As he rolls over, the weight of Harley pulling away causes him to roll off the bed in a twist of blankets and a mild scream. That jerks Peter awake, of course, sending him hopping out of the bed towards a baseball bat. Harley manages to get the phone alarm to finally shut off, and silence descends. Peter is panting heavily, baseball bat poised to strike while Harley leans against the bed, phone in hand.

_What the actual fuck is my life right now?_

“Harley?” Peter asked. “What is happening?”

“You! You’re whats happening! You’re a fucking _koala_ , and then my phone was loud, and where in fresh hell did you find that bat?”

“I—my bed, I keep one tucked behind my bed. Always have. And I am not a koala.”

“You are,” Harley shoots back. “A cute, fuzzy koala with the strength of a hippo.”

“Are hippos strong? Or just big?”

Harley feels a smile stretch across his face. “Honestly, I don’t fucking know, its just what came across my mind.”

Peter actually _giggles._

“I need coffee,” Harley says. He’s got to be delirious if Peter Parker is giggling and he feels pleased with himself. “Honestly, this weekend is going to grate my nerves. I’m never going anywhere with you again.”

“And when we get married?”

“I’m staying home, and you’re carrying our social life.”

“That sounds like too much work, baby.”

“Deal with it. You’re enough work for me.”

Peter giggles again. He drops the bat and climbs back towards his bed, plopping back down into the mass of blankets and pillows. Harley watches him burrow in with a weird feeling in his gut. Peter’s hair is fluffy, his torso bare, and his smile sleepy.

“I’ll, um, I’ll see you in a bit,” Harley says. He reaches for a sweater to tug over his t-shirt. He searches around for a minute, feet getting colder every minute he’s on the hardwood floor. “Socks, socks, socks…shit.”

“I packed some in case you forgot,” Peter yawns. “Fuzzy ones in my suitcase, somewhere on the left.”

Harley follows the instructions and finds a pair of fuzzy purple socks. “How did you…?”

“You’ve lived in New York for ten years, but can’t seem to adapt to our winters,” Peter shrugs. He burrows further into the bed. “Figured you’d need fuzzies.”

“Fuzzies?”

“Fuzzy socks. Fuzzies.”

Harley’s mouth twitches. Sometimes, he is unbearably fond of Peter.

Making his escape, Harley pads out of the room and towards where he remembers the kitchen being. The house is completely quiet. For the first time since sliding into the passenger seat of Peter’s car, Harley feels calm. This better reflects his mornings. Nobody is his trying to speak to him, Peter is not leading him around, and there’s no show to put on. He’s able to just walk into the kitchen and towards a surprisingly simple coffee maker.

“Good morning, Mr. Keener.”

Harley nearly drops the coffee pot as he fills it with water. The voice is computerized, and there’s nobody in the room with him. “H-Hello?”

“Hello,” the voice chirps back. “I am JARVIS, the Stark family AI program. Are you in need of any help?”

“No,” Harley squeaks, unsure what to do with this knowledge. There’s been rumors about Tony Stark’s AI program, something like the Google home or Alexa on crack. “I, um—

“Your heart rate is abnormally high. Should I call for assistance?”

“No!” Harley says. “I just needed a second, that’s all. Good morning. Um, thank you.”

“Of course, sir,” JARVIS replies. “It is my programming to offer the following information to any new guests in the house: the kitchen is yours. If you wish to make something, you are welcome to the use of anything in the fridges and cabinets. There are easy to eat breakfast pastries in the pantry, or heatable breakfasts in the freezer. You have already begun making coffee, so there is no need to instruct you there.”

Harley tilts his head. “Hey, JARVIS, are you aware of all of the ingredients in this kitchen?”

“Yes sir.”

“Nice. Do we have everything typically needed for quiche?”

A pause. “Yes sir. Would you like me to find a recipe?”

“Nah. Thanks, though.”

“It is my pleasure, sir. Many guests prefer music while they work in the kitchen or lab. Shall I play something?”

“Yeah, give me a late nineties country mix. One inspired by George Strait.”

“At once, sir.”

Harley loses himself in the sounds of the music from his childhood. He remembers as a child, before he knew enough about himself for his parents to care, when his mother would teach him how to make all of her favorite breakfast foods. George Strait would play through the speakers of their old CD player, while Abby danced around while munching on a banana. He likes to think of those times, trying not to overshadow them with the frustrations that later came on.

And so, he does.

**)-(**

Peter wakes up about an hour after Harley’s left the room. He laughs a little at himself when he gets out of the bed to see his baseball bat lying on the floor. He’s not entirely proud of the ‘Koala Incident’ but he can hardly be blamed, right? He was asleep, snuggling in the bed of his childhood room. It only makes sense he was lulled into a sense of security that led to attaching himself to the nearest warm body.

It doesn’t matter that it was Harley.

It _doesn’t._

Disappointed when he can’t seem to find his sweater from the previous day, Peter finds a t-shirt and tugs it on. He heads to open the door when he smells something delicious coming from downstairs.

 _Uncle Rhodey probably stayed over and made breakfast,_ he thinks excitedly. _Uncle Rhodey’s pancakes are the absolute best._

He gets himself psyched to see the spread of breakfast until he strides into the kitchen to find Harley at the sink, washing dishes. Tony and Pepper are sitting at the bar in front of him, sharing a plate of what seems to be quiche while chatting with their future son-in-law. It’s a surreal picture, how domestic and calm Harley looks in comparison to the day before. Harley, who is wearing Peter’s sweater and socks, those same socks pulled over the bottom of his pajama pants legs. He looks like a dork, glasses askew and hair a mess while speaking about a potato gun he’d built for science fair in middle school.

And Tony…Tony looks calm. Engaged. Respectful.

 _Warm fiancé_ , he thinks miserably, stepping forward. _I’m a warm, loving fiancé who isn’t confused at all by what’s happening._

“Hey,” Harley says, voice and smile equally soft as Peter approaches. “Did you get the extra sleep you needed?”

Peter nods, deciding if he should try to give him a good morning peck or something. He settles on running a hand across Harley’s back as he makes his way to the pan of quiche. “Did you make this?”

“I did,” Harley says. “Your father ate two pieces.”

“It was delicious,” Tony shrugs. “Harley says he often cooks breakfast.”

“I mean,” Peter teases. “Does cooking bacon every morning count as breakfast?”

Harley pouts. “I make eggs and toast sometimes.”

“Even if you didn’t, it still counts,” Pepper assures him. “And Tony’s right, it was delicious. Did you make that pie crust?”

“Yes ma’am,” Harley nods. “Just like my mama made it.”

Peter takes a fork, digging straight into the quiche. It is delicious, a simple dish with cheese and sausage that makes Peter’s tastes buds do backflips. “Fuck, that’s good.”

Harley looks pleased, but doesn’t say anything else.

“So,” Pepper continues. “Now that you’re awake, your father and I wanted to talk to you both about something.”

Some of Peter’s quiche falls of his fork. “Um.”

“Nothing bad!” Tony rushes out. “I was, um, thinking last night. About what a dick I’ve been. And there might be some realization that I have abandonment issues—thank you, Howard—and am mildly paranoid about you leaving me. The news of your engagement rattled me a bit. It’s no excuse, but…I just wanted you to know I am sorry. Sincerely. And we’d like to make it up to you.”

“Okay,” Peter finds himself stepping closely to Harley. “What is it?”

“We want to throw an engagement party,” Pepper says. “To celebrate you, and your marriage.”

Harley shifts uncomfortably, and Peter thinks of a reason that this is a bad idea.

“Dad, I—” Peter cuts himself off. “You don’t have to do that, I get it.”

“No, Pete,” Tony shakes his head. “I’ve always been worried about how you feel in this family. There’s always been this worry that you’re going to leave, that you don’t actually want to be my son. Ever since you were a kid, I’m just worried. And so, I react badly when I think you’re going to. So let me do this. Let me celebrate you, celebrate how our family is going to grow, because that’s what this is. Not you leaving, but Harley joining. And I’m thrilled to get to know him better.”

Peter feels like he’s going to be sick. “Dad…I love being part of this family. I love you, and Mom, and Morgan. I would never leave you guys. And, despite the trouble we’ve had, I know you love me too. That’s never been in question. I don’t need a party to prove it.”

“I know that, son, but this is something I want to do,” Tony argues. “Besides, you know I love getting my way. When I want something…”

“Right,” Peter chuckles awkwardly. “Well, um, b-babe? How do you feel about a party?”

“Oh,” Harley whispers. “I, well…I appreciate the welcome, but it isn’t necessary, really. I feel sufficiently included.”

“And we had a party yesterday afternoon!”

“That was just a gathering of random friends and family,” Tony waves it off. “This would be _your_ friends, not mine. We were thinking a bonfire, hot chocolate, the people you love.”

“Say yes,” Pepper smiles. “May and I can go into town and get everything. We thought maybe Harley wanted to join us, since he seems to have an affinity for cooking. I bet you’ve got a recipe for hot chocolate.”

“Indeed,” Harley mumbles.

“Then it’s settled,” Tony says. He looks to Peter, eyes determined. “Please, son.”

Well, Peter can’t exactly refuse him now, right?

“Okay,” Peter says with forced lightheartedness. “Can Harley and I have a moment alone, please?”

“Of course,” Pepper nods. “We’ll go wake May up. Harley, will you be ready to go in thirty minutes?”

“Yes ma’am,” Harley agrees. “Absolutely.”

The second Tony and Pepper are around the corner, Harley’s hands start shaking and he sinks to the ground. Peter ducks behind the island with him, catching his shoulders. “Harls, what happened?”

“I’m ruining your life,” Harley says in a whisper. “And these people, they’re your family, _a real family,_ and I’m making you lie to them…”

“No,” Peter shushes him. “You’re not, I agreed to this. You need to stay in America, I wanted a new job, and…yeah, I agreed to this. We’re both getting what we want.”

“But your dad—

“My relationship with my dad turned over in a day because of us getting married. Its already improving things.”

“And the divorce?”

“He won’t find out the reason why.”

“How can you keep this from them? How can I ask you to?”

Peter takes Harley’s chin, tilting it up so his boss has to look him in the eyes. “Have I ever told you I could do something and then couldn’t do it?”

“No,” Harley admits, sniffling.

“Exactly,” Peter says. “I’m saying I can do this, we can do this, and it’s going to be okay. Trust me, alright? Like you have with every other aspect of your life for the past five years.”

“Yeah,” Harley says. He closes his eyes and takes a breath. “Yeah, I trust you.”

“I’ve got you, Harley.” Peter makes a bold move and wraps his arms around the other man for a hug. “I know that this is hard for you, that all these people and the change of environment messed with you. I know that, and I’m here like I’ve always been. Remember that party last Christmas?”

“Ugh,” Harley grimaces. “When Dr. Taylors thought she was God’s gift to earth and repeatedly tried to corner me?”

“And I made the cameras glitch, and had Ned set off the fire alarm so you could have a clean getaway.” Peter rubs at Harley’s arms. “When have I ever not taken care of you?”

Harley sighs. He blinks in Peter’s neck, and there’s a wetness there. “Never.”

“Exactly. Now, let’s go shopping.”

**)-(**

“So,” May says casually. “How long have you been in love with him?”

Harley jerks, nearly dropping the bags of marshmallows in his arms. “M-Ma’am?”

“Peter,” May continues. “You two obviously care about each other, that much is obvious. But the way you look at him speaks to something else.”

“Um, I don’t—” Harley stammers awkwardly, wondering where his confidence from the workplace went. “I’m not sure what you’re asking me.”

They’re in the enormous pantry of the Stark house, gathering extra supplies before the bonfire. Harley’s back is currently pressed into the shelves, while May stands in the doorway with her calculating arms crossed, and Pepper leans against the trim.

“Look, kid,” May says. “I don’t know you, but I know something’s weird about the engagement. I know that Peter’s sincerity was real when he used to call and say he didn’t understand you. When he would say that you had no semblance of a social life, and that you were almost indifferent to the world around you.”

“I’m not very social,” Harley says. “Never have been.”

“And we believe that,” Pepper assures him. “We see how you spend half the time hiding behind Peter. When you two are alone, I’m sure it’s different, but when you’re with everyone else you are very wary. You don’t like strangers or unfamiliarity. I’ve seen that plenty. What I don’t understand is why Peter went from being the subject of your indifference as of a month ago, to being the one person you rely on.”

“He’s always been the one person I rely on,” Harley says before he can think. “I mean…no, I mean _that_. Peter’s always been different from anyone else. From the moment I hired him, he was the only person who didn’t whisper behind my back in the office or doubt me. I trust him, more than anyone else in my life, and don’t think of being with him as work because I love him. He doesn’t make me feel like a loser, or like something’s wrong with me. He knows me and understands me. Sometimes I think better than myself.”

As Harley talks, he finds the words tumbling out of him with a sort of relief that feels entirely new. He’s saying things long buried, admitting to feelings that have always been difficult to suppress. Now somebody is listening to them. Pepper and May are standing there, hearing the truth that Harley’s always wanted to tell. Every time Peter teased about getting a sex life, about Harley having no emotion, about his cold exterior and pretentiousness. Every time he kept his mouth shut, and now it just comes flooding out.

“There’s nobody that makes me feel like I can be myself,” he continues. “Peter is unlike anyone else I’ve ever known. Anything I ever asked him to do, he did, but better. He goes above and beyond, he’s an actively best friend, and he’s…honestly? Painfully handsome. Like a little ball of sun, I don’t know, but I love him. I...I love him."

“That’s why you didn’t promote him,” May nods. “To keep him close.”

“I’m a wretchedly selfish person, and the thought of not being around the only person on this planet who seems to give a damn about me…” Harley feels his throat close. “I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t.”

“What happened to you?” Pepper asks. The calculations are gone, and she now looks worried. “Harley…”

“Harls, babe?” Peter’s calling.

“Yeah, we’re coming!” Harley replies. “Dropped the marshmallows everywhere, but we got it!”

“May’s always been clumsy, don’t trust her with anything!” Tony yells.

“Fuck you, Stark!” May yells back. She keeps her eyes on Harley. “I can see that you really love him, and that’s why I’m not going to say anything to anyone about the phone call I intercepted earlier.”

Harley’s stomach sinks.

“Tony’s phone rang earlier with a call from someone named Flash Thompson. He had an interesting story to tell about how you were raised in America, but you were born in Canada, and your work visa expired. He claims that you may have fooled your immigration lawyers, but you didn’t fool him. He knows you and Peter aren’t really together, and that this is a green card marriage. Your behavior leads me to believe he’s telling the truth. But, like I said, I see that you love Peter. So, we're going to say this once, and then Pepper and I will take whatever your decision is with grace.”

“If you really love him,” Pepper says. “You won’t put him in this kind of position. I don’t know why he accepted to do this, but this is illegal. He could go to jail, and he does not deserve time in federal prison because you can’t bear the thought of being away from him.”

Harley wipes at his eyes.

“I know.” May steps forward and places a hand on his arm. “Peter has this way of making you desperate to keep him close, but this…this is big, Harley.”

Harley doesn’t say anything, but the guilt eats at his gut.

**)-(**

Peter is standing at the fire, Ned, MJ, and Betty by his side. He holds a cup of hot chocolate as his friends and family mill around. Harley has yet to come back from when he popped in to use the restroom, and Peter knows something is off. He wants to run inside, check on the other man and make sure everything’s okay.

It’s been a weird two days.

They’re oddly close, he’s come to realize. He and Harley operate on a different energy field than other people. It hasn’t ever seemed weird in the office; after all, its Peter’s job to be by Harley’s side at all times. In that environment, nobody thinks twice of late work nights and the endless teasing and how they function as one unit. In his childhood home, however, he has the opportunity to see that their closeness stands out and almost feels intimate in the home setting.

And today? Today has been something else. Harley started off freaking out, then seemed to take comfort in Peter’s presence. They spent time at the store, domestic and calm before coming back to make hot chocolate and throwing marshmallows at each other. Peter can admit that he enjoyed falling into the role of fiancés-in-love throughout the day. It didn’t feel too different from his usual time with Harley, except for how open Harley was.

 _This is messing with my head_ , Peter thinks miserably.

“Peter,” MJ catches his attention. “You alright there?”

“Y-Yeah,” he squeaks.

All three of his friends look at him in doubt.

“Harley’s just been acting weird today,” Peter shrugs. “And now he’s been gone awhile. I’m worried.”

“Worried about what?” Ned asks. “You’re the one who has prison hanging over his head.”

“It’s not about that,” Peter insists. “Thing were good this morning, great this afternoon, but since people started arriving, he’s been off. I don’t know what happened.”

“So go check on him,” Betty offers. “If anyone asks, we’ll say you had to go to the bathroom.”

“Thanks, Bet.” Peter kisses her cheeks. “You guys rock. Be back soon.”

Peter walks into the mostly empty house. “JARVIS, where’s Harley?”

“I am sorry, sir,” JARVIS answers. “But Mr. Keener is no longer here. He had me call a cab, packed his bag, wrote a note for you, and left. He asked me not to take Mr. Stark or yourself away from the party.”

Peter gapes. “What? Are you serious?”

“I’m afraid so, sir. The letter is upstairs on your bed.”

_Dear Peter,_

_I’m sorry. I fucked up, honestly. I don’t know if May told you, but…the reason you haven’t had a promotion isn’t because you aren’t good enough. It’s because a promotion means that you would leave my side and start writing pieces, putting your journalism degree to use. The thought that you might not ever spend time with me again tore me to pieces. I buried those emotions, though. I just kept you close. I cherished our long nights and holidays. It wasn’t work to me. It was a privilege. And I’m done being selfish. I’m done doing everything to stay close to you, because you need to actually have a life. You don’t need to be stuck with me anymore, don’t need this kind of show. Your life isn’t on my terms and I feel sick knowing I ignored the way things were because I wanted to be with you. But this weekend made it impossible. Laying in a bed next to you, telling you my secrets and talking with you about your own family, and even holding your hand and waking up in your arms. I hope that at some point, you forgive me._

_Also—I will speak to Phil and Anna. There’s no way I will let Flash fire you. They’ll take care of you._

_I love you, Peter. I am immeasurably sorry._

_With my hopes of forgiveness,_   
_Harley_

_P.S. I told you I know more than you think_

Beneath the note is the packet of questions Peter had brought with them. In the margins next to the questions, Harley has scribbled answers. Only, flipping through them, Peter realizes they aren’t answers that match up with Harley.

They’re answers that match up with Peter.

_**What is your partner’s favorite color?** Red_   
_**What is your partner’s birthplace?** Queens, NY_   
_**Did your partner have any childhood pets?** Savannah, a golden retriever. She died when you were fifteen, and you cried for a week_   
_**What is your partner’s favorite food?** Cheeseburgers, a family favorite_

It goes on. Peter remembers Harley’s “I’m going to answer these questions.” At the time he assumed it meant he was answering them about himself. Instead, he was proving Peter wrong. He pays attention. He knows Peter.

He loves Peter.

And now he’s gone.

_Unacceptable._

**)-(**

Harley is packing his suitcases when the doorbell rings. He looks down at his watch, confused as to who would be opening it up in the middle of the night. As he’s walking to the door, it occurs to him that he’s only been home for an hour, and its only ten pm. It’s possible that Peter found his note and came to the apartment. He pauses.

_Don’t open it._

“Harley!” Peter’s voice calls. “Harley, open up. I know you’re in there, the doorman told me you were here.”

Harley doesn’t respond. He leans against the door, feeling the heavy fall of Peter’s knocking.

“Fine! You wanna stand on the other side of the door, that’s cool. I can talk.” There’s a pause. “Listen, Harley, I read your letter. And it’s an absolute load of shit. I have spent years getting to know you. You think I didn’t have some clue that you loved me? It’s not…I didn’t know you were _in love_ with me. Romantically. I knew, though, that you loved me. We’re a team, a function, and that was fine with me. I thought you would never want more, honestly. You were so cold, I didn’t think romance was an option. So I stayed by your side, and that was alright.

“Then we had our little adventure up at my family home, and things started to change. Things changed when you told a fake story about our engagement that actually happened, and I saw how you looked at me. And things changed when you told me about your parents, and when we held hands. When I woke up in the middle of the night and we were wrapped around each other and you looked so peaceful. And I wondered, as you got more sensitive and more trusting throughout the weekend, if you wanted what I wanted. But it really clicked when you abandoned me at a party thrown just for us, with a packet of information about me and a note where you wanted to let me go like some stupid movie instead of just looking me in the eye and asking.”  
  
There’s a thud that sounds like Peter’s let his head fall on the door. “Now, you can imagine my disappointment when it suddenly dawned on me that the man I love is about to be kicked out of the country because he won’t talk to me. So, Harley…baby, please open the door so that you can come back home with me and still make it for an engagement brunch my father is insistent he throw tomorrow morning. Because we can’t date if we don’t get the chance to actually be in the same country.”

A tear falls.

“ _Please, Harls._ Marry me. Give me a chance to be in your life without walls. Be in my life without deception. I think we can do this, but you have to trust me.”

Harley’s heartbeat is in his ears.

“Trust me, Harley. Unlock the door.”

Harley takes a breath…

…and unlocks the door.

* * *

fair warning

i wanted to do everything on earth with you-

to chase amber light and drink wild air whole

and go blind with you.

i've forgotten how to kiss a strange mouth, my lips still soft from you.

i do not know how to love someone knew.

but darling,

i will learn

-sincerely joanna, tumblr


End file.
